


The Rise and Fall of Us

by Emeraldawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldawn/pseuds/Emeraldawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco is given a deadline to produce an interview with Harry Potter, he has to buck up and do so or it’s his job. Given that Harry Potter is both his school rival and the person that Draco uses to measure all his relationships against, this should just be so easy and go along swimmingly. Expecting tensions to run high with Potter, the git tosses a wrench in Draco’s plans with an ultimatum of his own. </p><p><b>Featured Book:</b> <span class="u">The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rise and Fall of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmoretteHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/gifts).



> Once again, this story, like so many others, would look like a scrambled mess of poor grammar and bad use of punctuation if it wasn’t for my beta killpurakat. Thank you yet again. There is a long list of people to thank, but the list would be longer than the story. So, a general thanks to the people who encouraged me when I wanted to stab my computer monitor repeatedly because this story lost focus, yet again, and I had to go back and rewrite scenes, again. You all know who you are. And a thank you to the lovely mods that run H/D Fan Fair for the two times I had to ask for an extension. Yes, I finally got Draco to shut up in some scenes :) Just some, mind you.

  
  
Cover design by Capitu   
  


> ”Can you do the assignment or not, Malfoy?” Draco’s boss, and head editor of Wizards Readings Publications, demanded. 
> 
> “Yes, sir, but Potter has turned away all other-”
> 
> “Nonsense, Malfoy! Surely you can track him down and ask him to do an old classmate a favor?” 
> 
> Draco’s lips twisted in a grimace. He couldn’t imagine Potter doing anything for him, sadly. 
> 
> “I will make this simple for you Malfoy; either get that interview from Potter or look for a new job.”

That conversation had been four days ago, and Draco’s time was running out. Two weeks was all Draco had been given to track down Potter and turn in his draft. Oh, and in between time, convince his school rival to share his secretive past. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the little known fact of Draco’s long term feelings toward Harry. 

Should be as easy as riding a dragon, given the stonewalling he was getting from Potter.

On the first day, Draco sent a polite request to Harry. Two hours later, a note was sent back with Draco’s own owl, with only one word on the parchment. _NO._ Since then, every request Draco had sent was returned unopened.

Never handling rejection well, and especially not when it came from Potter, Draco’s tendency was to push harder. And nothing was a harder push than a face to face conversation. 

“Didn’t you get my answer the first time, Malfoy?” Potter drawled, in lieu of an actual greeting.

“Yes, but you didn’t give me a chance to explain-”

“I don’t need you to explain,” Harry cut him off. “Do you think you’re the first person to come to my door, wanting to hear the tragic story of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord?”

“No, I know you have sent everyone else away; quite rudely too, if the stories are true.”

“Then what makes you think I would tell _you_ , of all people?”

There was so many ways Draco wanted to answer, and honestly get Harry to confide in him. He wanted to tell Harry that he wouldn’t do anything to harm him, that Harry could trust him, that he wasn’t just trying to get a story. Instead he went with an answer Harry would believe. 

“Because you know me. So you know that the last thing I want to do is paint you in a golden halo and make you out to be a saint.” Draco smirked, holding his eye contact with Harry. 

“That’s a good selling point, but why do you think I want to even _tell_ my story?” Harry’s voice grew cold.

“You’re tired of people coming to the wrong conclusions, all those silly rumors in the press, having to hide from the wizarding world you helped fight for...” Taking a breath, Draco lowered his voice for the right effect. “Because you want to tell the real story; the story nobody has heard before, of the true heroes that everybody wants to ignore in favor of you. You want them to know about Lupin, and Tonks, and Severus...”

Draco knew he had hit the right nerve when Harry looked at him, narrowing his eyes. “What are you, a mind wizard now?”

“No, but I _know_ you. We both know more about each other then either of us care to admit.” Draco smiled slightly. “Harry, you’re tired of hiding here in this old house, alone. So stop it.”

Potter didn’t speak for a bit, thinking. Draco let him, knowing that pushing Harry now would just backfire. 

“And what is your reward for getting this interview? Or better yet, what’s going to happen if you fail?” Harry’s tone was even, not giving anything away. It was annoying, really.

“Fine, Potter. You want to hear how you’ll be saving my job?” Draco hissed, hating that he sounded weak in front of Harry. He’d always hated being looked down upon. “That I’ll be sacked without your help?”

Harry didn’t say anything and instead just watched him, judging the truth in Draco’s words, before he stepped aside from the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” Harry said, moving back into the house. “I’ll show you where you can stay.”

 _“What?_ ”

“You're just going to keep hounding me until you get your interview, so you can have it. But you’re going to have to stay here to get it.”

“Wait, you want me to stay _here_?” Draco pointed at the hall floor. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way Harry Potter was giving him an interview, let alone asking him to stay with Harry. “How long? Or more importantly, why?”

“Seven days should be good. Leaves you three days to pull the story together.” Harry kept walking, heading for what looked like stairs in the back. “You can stay on the floor if you want, but I was going to put you up in the guest room. As for why, you don’t expect me to do this for nothing, do you Draco?” Harry raised his eyebrow, mocking Draco with the question.

“So, as some weird sort of payment, you want me to stay here, with you?” Draco asked skeptical. 

“Why not? You’re the one telling me I’m lonely. Maybe I just want someone around. Anyway, the ‘why’ shouldn’t matter to you, Malfoy. You're here to find out about my role in the war.”

“And I’ll learn that by staying with you?” 

“That’s what I said. Each day you stay here, I’ll tell you more of the story.” Harry pointed to the still-open door. “Or, you can go back empty handed, like the others. It’s your choice.”

Draco gnawed on his lower lip, looking between Harry and the door. The longer he took, the larger Harry’s smirk became. And Draco knew _that_ smile; the git knew Draco would stay. Draco just hoped he could keep his heart in check.

____________________________________________

Draco unloaded his things in the guestroom Potter gave him. Draco couldn’t help but think that House Elves were great, just on the off chance that a person might need them to pop back to the flat to grab a week’s worth of clothes, so said person could stay in the house of the man that had been that person’s measuring stick against all dates and relationships ever. Just a common occurrence, really.

This _so_ wasn’t going to blew up in their faces.

The idea of rooming with Harry, even for a small amount of time, was insane. Draco didn’t know what Harry was playing at, but he cursed the day he ended up with _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ update project.

Draco was grumbling about hot, clueless saviors and fate always having poor timing, when a movement from the corner of his eye caused Draco to jerk before he saw it was Harry.

“Hey, since I wasn’t expecting company, I was going to order in,” Harry said, not reacting to Draco’s uncharacteristic twitch. “What would you like?”

“Order in? Like from a Muggle restaurant?” 

Harry looked as if he was trying to stop an eyeroll, “We both know wizards haven’t started the service. Wait, you’ve never had take out, have you?”

“And just when would I have done that, Potter? I live in a wizarding community. It’s not like I could call the nearest Muggle restaurant, and have them pop over with some curry. The poor sod would have been Obliviated, after passing the first two houses.”

Harry cracked a grin at Draco. “Come to the kitchen. I’ll let you pick from my extensive menu collection for your first take out.”

Closing the closet door, Draco moved toward Harry, who was still standing in the doorway, smug grin on his face. “As if you had a choice Potter,” Draco told Harry, sliding past.

____________________________________________

After grilling Harry on his opinion of the quality of food in Harry’s menu collection, Draco decided on pizza. A food he had never eaten and, Harry swore, was, “one of the best damn culinary creations Muggles came up with.” Draco hoped he made a wise decision, especially since he’d allowed Harry to pick the toppings.

“And the best thing about pizza,” Harry announced, walking into the kitchen with two large, thin boxes, “is that it pairs amazingly with beer.” 

Harry put the boxes on the table, motioning for Draco to have at it. 

“You have butterbeer?” Draco asked as he opened the pizza box. He looked at the round flat bread, covered with tomato sauce, cheese, and meat. It didn’t look like any kind of culinary experience he wanted to have, but Draco remember Muggleborns missing it at Hogwarts to the point of tears. 

“No,” Harry said, pulling his head from the fridge, handing him a brown glass bottle. “I have Muggle beer.” 

The pizza, despite looking like a pancake made by Crabbe, was actually quite good. And the beer, not sweet like Butterbeer, fit well with it.

“Careful, Malfoy. That’s your, what, fourth piece? We don’t you losing all those sharp angles that the women find sexy.”

Draco gave a little involuntary snort. “You’re the ones who’s counting slices. If I didn’t know better, Potter, I’d think you were the one who didn’t want me to lose this fabulous body.” Draco thought his words sounded off, like he was just a bit tipsy. That couldn’t be right, he had only drank three beers. “Harry, I think this Muggle beer is a little stronger than Butterbeer.”

“That’s because it’s not made for the consumption of children, Malfoy,” Draco heard Harry tell him, as he peered down the mouth of the bottle with one squinted eye. “I’d have thought you could handle your liquor better. Of course, you did drink those pretty fast.”

“I can handle my spirits just fine. This is nothing like the firewhiskey Nott tried to brew in our fifth year. Now _that_ had some kick.”

Harry laughed. A true laugh, that started as a sputtering sound and evolved into something deep and soulful. A sound that, Draco thought, Harry should do more often.

“Laugh now, but you weren’t there. After a few shots, the lower years thought us uppers were sloshed enough to liberate us from our drink. It quickly escalated. The lower years may have been sober when it started, but us uppers had speed and knowledge on our side. Plus, some of us could get _creative_

“Oh Merlin, I bet Snape wasn’t too happy.”

Draco laughed, retelling how Snape had descended on the common room in his nightdress, forgetting his robe in the rush, hair even _more_ greasy and limp than normal. “We had never seen him so angry. Most of us really thought, myself included, that he would turn us into potion ingredients, like he always threatened.”

Harry’s laughed his jovial laugh again, and Draco felt a twinge inside. He thought Harry looked beautiful with the carefree look on his face.

“What did he do?”

“You mean besides giving almost every first year a heart attack? First thing, he declared no hangover potions. Said we could deal with the pain. Second, he made us fix any hexes ourselves. Then, we had to clean the common room, without magic. And lastly, for the rest of the year, any Slytherin that did poorly on a test, or didn’t turn in an assignment, or was even late to class, had to serve detention with him.”

“He grounded the whole house? Merlin, that’s the best! And we didn’t even know it.” 

“Number one rule in Slytherin: house issues stay within the house,” Draco said in his best Snape impression, before reaching for another beer. “But Potter, I am here to talk about you.”

Draco watched Harry think for a bit. The man didn’t close up like Draco thought he would, instead he looked a little amused, holding his beer away to his mouth.

“Since you haven't been here a whole day, we’ll start with something you already know. In our fifth year, I, along with Hermione and Ron, headed a defense group we named _Dumbledore’s Army_.”

“Yes, Potter. I did already know that. I was part of the group that busted you.”

“Yes, but did you know how it came about?” 

Draco had heard rumors, but never really cared much at the time. And then it was summer and the dark mark burned into his skin. Draco never much thought about Dumbledore’s Army, too scared about the Dark Lord and what would happen if he failed.

“It was mostly Hermione that thought it up. You remember how she was in school? Having Umbridge as a half-arse defense teacher was driving her nuts, not knowing what her education was missing under that toad’s teaching. But what cemented the idea for Hermione and, by extension, Ron was Umbridge _insisting_ that I was lying about what happened in the third task, the year before.”

Pausing, Harry finished the rest of his beer, adding the empty bottle to the growing group on the table.

“At our first meeting, when we proposed it to students we knew would be interested _and_ could keep a secret, we had it on a Hogsmeade weekend, right in the Hogshead. One of our defenses against Voldemort was hatched over butterbeers, in a dank pub.”

Draco wouldn’t deny it, those students did fight against the Dark Lord, and more than once. “You guys sure gave Umbridge the run around that year. And you stopped the Dark Lord at the ministry.” The moment the words slipped from Draco’s lips, he knew he shouldn’t have said them. Harry closed up like a fan. 

“Yeah, there were six of us. Somehow, Snape was able to get a message to the Order of the Phoenix, but by the time they showed up, the Death Eaters, including your father and aunt, had come. It was the last time I saw my Godfather alive.”

Not knowing what to say, if anything could be said, Draco remained silent. He wasn’t good at offering comfort. At the time, he thought his father going to Azkaban was the worst thing he could live through. He hadn’t thought about seeing someone he loved killed, in front of him no less. 

Both his parents lived through the war. He was a lucky one.

“I’m done for the day, Malfoy. Please put the pizza in the fridge,” Harry told him, standing to leave.

“Harry I’m-”

“Tomorrow, Draco. I’ll see you for breakfast.”

____________________________________________

The smell of bacon sizzling woke Draco late the next morning. Rolling over onto his back, Draco took time to enjoy the lazy morning feel he got when he didn’t have to rush. One thing Draco could say about his host: Potter had mattresses that would put a cloud to shame.

Draco could hear the sounds from the kitchen getting louder as Harry worked on whatever he was making to go along with the bacon. Rolling out of bed, Draco padded over to the closet to get his clothes, wondering if he had time for a shower. He hadn’t anticipated sleeping this late, but with the beers and staying up late writing notes last night, Draco slept like a stone once he got to bed. 

Harry didn’t tell him much last night, but he had learned quite a bit from what little he did say. Of course, knowing the public account of some of the events helped. For example, he knew Sirius Black was listed as a casualty of the war, but not how died. Draco knew there wasn’t a body of either of his older cousins (his own mother checked after they were both given full pardons). All Draco knew from reading transcripts was Harry was the one who push for clearing their names and he knew how they died.

Taking a quick shower, Draco dried and dressed with the help of some personal care charms before heading down to help with breakfast. 

“Good, you're up. I didn’t know how much beauty sleep I needed to give you,” Harry greeted from where he manned the store, once Draco entered in the kitchen. “I know you’re a forced guest and all, but can you get the pumpkin juice out of the fridge?” 

“Potter, you make it sound like you're holding me captive,” Draco teased, but doing as asked. “But I think the phrase is extortion.”

“You would be the worst hostage victim, complaining about your accommodations until the kidnappers just gave up in order to get peace of mind in Azkaban.”

“I have not complained once about my rooms or the service here, Potter. Even if you make _me_ fetch the drinks.”

“That’s because I’ve given you nothing to complain about. I know my beds are the best and I have been cooking since before I could remember. Although you can’t judge that yet, but I did introduce you to great food last night.”

“Pizza has been added to my diet.” Draco sat at the same chair he did last night, watching Harry bring the plates to the table. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Hmmm... never thought about it. Don’t you just want to take notes on me?”

“Well, maybe, if I was writing a fluffy piece for _Witch Weekly_. But I am here for the book interview.” Draco added more bacon to his plate.

“How did you get roped into this anyway? I can’t imagine you willing seeking a job where you had to talk to me.”

“No, I didn’t. I am a junior editor with the publishing company, but once one of my bosses did the math and figured out that we went to school together, it was this or no job at all.” 

“Yes, but why work at all? I thought you Malfoys had plenty of money.” Harry glanced at Draco, curious. 

“Yes, my father has money. I, on the other hand, will only get what he allows until his death or when he steps down as patriarch,” Draco answered before taking another bite of potatoes. “ I wanted to do something with my time and earn my own keep for a while. However, even with the pardon, there are still issues with this.” Draco held up his arm that still held the mark of Voldemort. 

“There was a time when you would have worn it proud.” 

Draco put his fork down before he was tempted to stab Potter with it. Even after all this time, his Dark Mark was something he would gladly cut from his body if he could. His life was a nightmare from the moment the Dark Lord placed his wand tip to his flesh. The day the man fell at the hands of Harry Potter earned Draco a brief respite, but he was still stained from it all. 

“Yes, maybe once, when I was young, but I saw things differently when Dark Lord used my family’s safety and my father’s freedom as an ultimatum. I grew up a lot that summer.”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I really shouldn't have said that. I remember our sixth year, and how you looked like you were hanging on by mere fingertips.” At some point, Harry had also stopped eating and was just listening to Draco. 

“Sometimes, I wished we were still those children. The eleven year-olds whose biggest worry was getting class work done.” 

Harry laughed. “Well, for you maybe, but I fought against a troll and had to defend myself against the first of four Defense teachers that were out to get me in one way or another.” 

“They were pretty horrid, weren't they?” Draco let the rest of his anger melt away. He couldn’t change the past. And neither could Harry. 

“Yeah. The worst. And you know what? As the host of the Dark Lord, Quirrell was a right awful teacher. I am surprised Voldemort didn’t off himself just so he could be away from the man. ”

Draco laughed. It was well known that the Dark Lord had a thirst for knowledge and no patience for stupidity or weakness. 

“Hey, Harry, what was it like, seeing the Dark Lord like that at such a young age?”

“You tell me. You saw him in the Forbidden Forest.” 

“That thing that looked like a Dementor?”

“That was Voldemort, or what he could pull together. He was living off unicorn blood just to stay on this plane.”

“That is…” Draco could even think of a word to describe how sick and mad the Dark Lord was. And yet wizards _still_ followed the man.

“I know. But even looking back, my first year wasn’t so bad. I got to learn about my family and magic. I made my first friends and got out of my Uncle’s house for most of the year.”

“I guess that’s worth facing a troll and the shade of Voldemort.”

Harry gave Draco a weary grin that had Draco questioning his choice of words.

“You have no idea, Draco.”

____________________________________________

After breakfast, Harry told Draco he was busy dealing with “Bloody Lordship stuff,” and Draco was free to do what he wanted. Taking the opportunity to better organize himself, Draco went back to his room to gather his notes from last night and moved them to the study Potter said he could use while he was staying with him.

Draco spent until the early afternoon split between adding to his notes on Harry, listing questions he wanted answered( such as _why did Harry want him here_ ), and remembering their shared past.

He remembered Harry Potter from the first time they met, during his robe fitting. Draco, in his first outing without his parents hovering nearby, tried to imitate the one man that Draco looked up to: his father. But he had yet to learn all the ends and outs of social situations and it cost him the friendship of Harry Potter

“Are you free?” Harry asked from the doorway, before stepping into his own study. He had changed clothes and was now in a Green V-neck knit shirt and black slacks--Muggles would call those jeans, Draco recalled--that fit nicely over his lower body. 

“I can take a break,” Draco answered, trying to not sound like the pants were affecting him. 

“I was going to head over to the market and didn’t know if you wanted out of the flat. Maybe stretch your legs a bit.”

“Market?” Draco asked, sounding a little more snobbish than he intended. “Don’t you have house elves? We always send ours.”

“My only house elf is in the service of Hogwarts at the moment. Plus, I don’t shop in places house elves would be welcomed.”

“What wizarding grocer doesn't allow house elves? Wait, you’re not going to a wizard grocer, are you?”

“Make sure you don’t wear robes. The Muggles will think you’re wearing sheets,” Harry said before leaving the room. Draco swore there was a little more wiggle to Harry’s stride them normal. 

In less than a half hour's time, Draco had changed and Apparated to an open field parking lot.

“Where are we?” Draco asked, taking in the scene around him.

“It’s called a farmers’ market.” Harry pointed to the area where tents and tables were set up. “Local farmers and families sell food they grow or make.”

“But what is the point?” Draco asked as he followed Harry to the market.

“The food is fresher and healthier than the food at the store. Plus, this market is close to one of the Black estates, and, as you know, true country estates aren’t large plots of land where we can sit and have tea. They are working assets, and putting money into the communities where your assets are located at will help you in the long run.”

“I know about that. The Malfoy estate is used to bread magical animals like bicorns. But we don’t do business with the local villages.”

“Not even for feed?”

“Not that I know of. My father is still in charge of the accounts. I didn’t want to live under an allowance, which is one of the reasons I’m working.”

Harry smiled, looking Draco right in the eye. “Well, that is noble of you, Draco.”

“It has more to do with wanting independence than nobility. I might love my father, but we don’t see eye-to-eye much.”

Harry made a humming noise, looking over to the tables and makeshift booths set up to hold the wares for sale. “It must be hard. You don’t have much family.”

“Yes and no. We still talk and everything, I just can’t live under another person's thumb. I need the freedom,” Draco said before tapping Harry on his shoulder. “So, are you going to show me what a farmers’ market is?”

“Right!” Harry made a sweeping motion and a mock bow. “Be prepared for peaches as big as your head and jams that are so tasty that wars have been settled just from the promise of them in the treaty.”

Draco, playing along, raised his nose in the air. “That is some lofty expectations Potter.”

The market was not what Draco was thinking of when he heard “Farmer’s Market.” He was thinking of pigs and dirt, and, well, people that looking like they worked in dirt every day. 

What he found was herbs that were potion worthy, homemade candies that he might have over indulged in buying, and some crafts. And there were the vegetables that Harry bought in abundance and the canned jams and jellies and other fruits too.

“I can’t believe you bought all those jams, Harry.” Draco watched Harry add them to his wizard’s shopping bag to protect them from breaking. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t add three jars to the pile yourself.”

“You didn’t read the sign. Peach and rosemary makes a good glaze for pork.”

Draco watched Harry’s brow furrow in thought. “I don’t think I have pork at home, but we can stop and get some on the way. I need more sausage anyway. I just have to...” Harry looked up and down the walkway. “Ah, there they are. I need to check in on the Black estate’s booth.”

“The estate has a booth? What do you sell to Muggles?” Draco asked in a stage whisper.

“The Blacks used to grow potion ingredients here. It’s amazing how Walburga Black let everything go to pot once her husband died. I don’t know if Sirius was right and his mother was insane or if she just let everything rot because she lost so much in such a short time and she just didn’t care.” Harry shrugged. 

Approaching the booth, Harry continued, “When I took a tour of the property, I asked the current caretakers what was still salvageable, if anything. Most of the rarer and harder to care for plants died, but the herb bushes like rosemary and thyme over grew. I have so much mint.”

“So you're selling herbs? At the farmers’ market?” Draco looked at Harry, skeptical. 

“This is just something to show our support. I sell the majority to places like restaurants, natural soap makers, and even the Hogwarts kitchens buy from me,” Harry said, picking up a bundle and looking it over before entering a quick conversation with the lady selling the herbs. She handed him a paper sack.

“Here you go Harry, your order. You called in earlier.” 

“Thank you, Hannah. I can’t stay late today, because I have company, but I’ll be by in a few days to check over the new shipments. Tell Neville I said ‘hi,’” Harry said with a wave. 

Following Harry back through the market, the name dawned on Draco. “Neville? As in, Neville Longbottom? He works for you?”

“Him and his wife help oversee the more non-Muggle used plants, and I couldn’t have asked for better. Neville has always had a way around plants.” 

Draco was silently thinking as the pair walked back to the car lot. It wasn’t until Draco had his hand around Harry’s arm that he spoke. “I have to admit Potter, I never thought any of this for you.”

Harry laughed, adjusting the shopping bags so they could withstand the trip. “And this from the man who, no less than twenty-four hours ago, told me that he knew me.”

“Your base, Harry. Your true nature. Some things do not change.”

____________________________________________

Draco wasn’t sleeping well. Scratch that, he wasn’t sleeping at all. There had been a few eye openers today.

Like Harry taking responsibility for the Black estate that was left to decay. Not only had Harry pulled the estate from ruin, but he found a profitable way to give the proverbial finger to the close-minded Black ancestors when he adapted his business to include Muggles too. 

Of course, this was just another trait that proved Harry was the man Draco was looking for. He didn’t want someone to come sweep him off his feet and take him off into the sunset, like a _Love-Potion Romance_.

Draco wanted someone who would get him and not be scared off from his past. Someone that could relate when he still had a nightmare, or when he and his father would argue for weeks because of past hurts that were slowly scabbing over. 

But he also wanted someone who could make him laugh, who understood his obligations, who wouldn’t let Draco run over him.

He wanted an equal, not a savior.

But apparently he found an equal in the wizarding savior. 

Now what was he going to do about it? Draco didn’t even know if Harry was at the point in his life where he would welcome a relationship. If one thing was cemented last night, it was Harry still had issues he needed to work on. Draco rubbed the dark mark, branded into his skin. 

It wasn’t like Draco was in a better place either. 

And then there was the question of Harry’s possible interest. In Hogwarts, he did pine after Cho and then dated Ginny Weasley. That would just be Draco’s luck, carrying a torch for a person that was straight as a rail. 

Maybe the best thing would be to keep his distance and get out as soon as possible.

But Draco didn’t know if he could last five more days and not act. Each time Harry laughed, Draco wanted to pull him close and feel the vibrations on his chest. He wanted to tease Harry into a smile and kiss away those looks Harry got when his mind was trapped in the past.

Should he, or shouldn’t he? He felt like a girl plucking petals off a daisy.

____________________________________________

“I want to show you something,” Harry said, walking into the study. Draco was using the early afternoon to add to his notes and do some writing. It was a slow task, mostly because of the lack of sleep he had gotten, and he welcomed the break.

“Okay, what is it?” Draco asked, putting down his quill.

“One of the things I did, before I moved in here, was clean out Grimmauld Place. I ended up putting a bunch of valuables in a vault. I kept some things here, like this,” Harry said, holding up an album. “I thought you might want to see it. I don’t know if you had any pictures of your mother’s cousins.”

“No. I know, when mother and father married, Aunt Walburga had already disowned Sirius. I honestly thought their pictures had been destroyed.”

“I don’t know... maybe Walburga forgot about it or a house elf hid it, but I did find it buried under some books in the library.” Harry moved next to Draco, opening the album so Draco could see alongside Harry. 

“This one looks like it was a Christmas album, but from what I can tell, it is the year before Sirius went to Hogwarts.” Harry pointed at a family of four, standing in front of a very plain Christmas tree. It looked the complete opposite of holidays at the manor. Draco’s mother liked to decorate, to the point each room had a theme. Hogwarts was always overdone with dressing and merriment and at _least_ four trees in the main hall, but the picture looked like a family that was acting out the holiday, with the minimal amount of cheer required.

Another picture showed the rest of the Black family, his mother included, posing in a very traditional way. The adults stood as couples with their children in front of them. “This looks nothing like the holidays my mother hosts. Of course, we never had any other family over, with my mother’s relatives either passed away, jailed, or disowned. I always suspected that my father’s family never celebrated the holidays.”

Harry traced his finger along the edge of a photo with Sirius by himself. “You know, my first true Christmas was at Hogwarts. I got something that had belonged to my father that year. It was the first time I saw what my parents looked like, too. Hagrid gave me an album of them.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. Hearing Harry never even knew what his parents looked like until he was eleven - Draco couldn’t fathom that. Even now, when his father and him were distant, his parents were a major part of his life. 

“I grew up learning that James and Lily were derelicts and alcoholics. Then, in my third year, I learned I had a godfather and he was the insane murderer behind my parents’ death.” Harry’s voice sounded distant and cold, his eyes looking at the picture, unfocused. “When all along, it was a rat.”

The rat, Pettigrew.

Draco remember him, a sniveling hunchback willing to lick his master's boots clean if asked. He was so unlike any Gryffindor Draco had met that he wondered how that man even got into the house. 

“The first time I saw Sirius, I had him at wand point, ready to hurt him, to kill him. Ron had a broken leg and we were stuck in the Shrieking Shack with, what I had been told, was a mad killer. Then he forced Ron’s rat into his human form, and we all learned the truth. The man who was supposed to watch me, to raise me, was locked up and never given the trial he deserved.”

Harry snapped the book closed suddenly, stepping away from the desk. “I’ll leave it for you to look through, Draco. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire to me room for a bit.” 

Harry left a still-stunned Draco without waiting for an answer. Picking up the photo album, Draco held it close to his chest, and lost himself in his thoughts. 

Sirius, who spent the better part of his adulthood locked away. 

Harry, the orphan tool for the light.

Draco, the heir that was forced into a cause he didn’t believe in. 

They were all victims of a war. Mechanisms for other people agendas. Were they still?

____________________________________________

The sun had started to descend before Draco went to look for his host. Draco needed to get out of the air of depression that seeped through the house since his time with Harry in the study. And, come hell or high water, he was going to drag Harry with him into a more pleasant mood.

“Come on, Potter, up and at ‘em! Or I am going to come in there a drag you out with a _Mobilicorpus_ if I need to!”

Harry yanked open the door.“ Merlin, you a right git sometimes.”

“Yes, I am, and I will bug you until I get my way. The faster you figure that out, the faster we can get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Well, I hear Muggles have better pubs with fish and chips and an untold number of drinks.”

“Oh Merlin, you introduce a wizard to pizza...” Harry teased, slipping into what was quickly becoming a familiar act. “Or is this a ploy to get more Muggle beer?”

“Potter!” Draco exclaimed in mock horror. “Bite your tongue! I heard the whiskey is good too. Go change, and let’s hit the bars, as they say.”

____________________________________________

It took them a while to decide what type of drinking establishment they wanted to go to. All Draco had been to was the Leaky Cauldron and Hogshead. So when Harry asked him what he was looking for, Draco admitted that he didn’t have a clue. He didn’t think any of them were up for “the club scene,” after listening to Harry describe the bars that fell under that category, and a regular bar would be nice, but neither of them had eaten since breakfast. So Harry took Draco to what he called “a proper modern pub.”

It wasn’t as dark and worn as anything Draco had been to before. The tables had a thick varnish that reflected the lights hanging from the ceiling. There was a large telly over the main bar, so the patrons could watch football, and the largest display of alcohol Draco had even seen. As for customers, the pub was almost empty. Only the telly had a few spectators watching. 

“Table?” Draco asked, looking for a good spot.

“Sure, we want to order some food anyway.” Harry picked a seat where the noise from the game wouldn’t disturb them.

The food was ordered and delivered quickly, the fare simple but in large portions. Draco didn’t feel hungry until the plate of food was laid out in front of him, and he dug in rather than trying to start a conversation. 

“I take it that it’s good?” Harry asked, pointing at Draco’s nearly finished plate.

“Well, I didn’t get lunch, and don’t act so superior! I thought I was going to have to pay for your plate as well.” Draco nodded to Harry’s own nearly empty plate.

“Sorry, I should have looked in on you.”

“Yes, Potter, because I am four,” Draco rolled his eyes. “ I can take care of myself, you know.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgment as the waitress dropped off their ale before she left with a wink at Harry.

“Well, well, Mr. Potter, looks like you have an admirer.”

“Oh Merlin, you can just stop. I’m not interested anyway.” Harry drank his ale, not even giving the waitress a glance.

Draco, however, took another look at the woman, looking for a flaw that maybe he hadn’t seen. “I don’t know why, she looks very...curvy.” And she did. Draco had heard Pansy complain over some women and their hourglass figures enough to know what one looked like. Not that he really wanted to know. For a ‘well-bred pureblood,’ Pansy had no trouble talking about a woman’s body, and how she felt slighted, to each of her male friends. 

“Yeah, not really my type, Draco.”

“Oh, so you have a type? I remember you were very close to Ginny Weasley at one point. Are redheads your type?”

“First, everyone has a type, even you. And second, no. But I also don’t need to tell you.”

“I think you forgot to factor in the stubbornness of a Slytherin, Harry.”

“And you forgot the stubbornness of a Gryffindor, Draco. I think that was our biggest hang-up when we were younger: hot-headed stubbornness.”

“So, is this a game to see who cracks first?” Draco asked with an eyebrow arched, challenging. 

“No, but why am I the one in the hot seat? I don’t see why you can’t tell me what the great Draco Malfoy has deemed worthy of his courtship.”

“So, you want to know what type of witch I fancy.”

“I am just saying... tit for tat, and all that.”

Draco let a smile melt onto his face. “Promise, Potter? We’ll play question for question?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Sure, why not? I’ll even let you go first, even though you have been watching me for your book for the last three days.”

“Okay! I am not going to pass up a chance to ask anything from the Great-Harry-Potter, even with that poor excuse of a guilt trip.” Draco took a long slip of ale, pondering. “Okay, Harry, what was Muggle school like?”

“I thought you wanted to know my type?”

“Oh, we’ll get there, but first we’ll start easy.” Draco motioned for Harry to continue and answer. 

“Well, the academics were different. I don’t know where wizards learn math, reading and writing skills, but that’s what we learned.”

“But, Muggles have institutions for higher learning. How much math and reading do they need to know?”

“That’s two questions, but I’ll answer anyway, since it’s not about me. Muggle math is far above what the wizarding world knows. Also, they have sciences and their own history. Science would be the Muggle answer to our magic. Everything you see, from cars to weather to medicine was all developed from scientific principles. Once a Muggle-born wizard enters Hogwarts, it makes it difficult for them to live in the world they came from. Their schooling falls too far behind that of their old classmates.”

“I never thought of that. Even in Muggle Studies, we learned very little.”

“Yes, Hermione said it was a useless class. Okay, my turn. Where did you learn before Hogwarts?”

“I know some wizarding communities have a primary school, but most families either get a tutor or they teach their children on their own. I have heard of some families sending their children to the local Muggle school, but it depends on the child's control on magic,” Draco said, pausing for another sip while Harry signaled for another round.

“What was the first bit of magic you did?”

“I really don’t know, the Dursleys never kept records of anything like that, and who knows where anything my mom recorded about me ended up. I do know that from an early age, the Dursleys had issues with my magic leaking.” 

Harry paused, waiting for the waitress to service them and leave. He saw Draco give him a wink and kissy lips behind the waitress’s back, when she had asked Harry if they needed something else. “Prat,” Harry muttered as soon as the waitress was out of sight.

“Whatever. I do believe it’s your turn.”

“Well since you seem so interested in my sex life, what about you? I thought you were with Pansy.”

“In, like, fourth year, just for the Yule Ball. But no, Pansy is a good friend, maybe even one of my best. But she is missing something I find attractive in my partners.”

“What could she be missing?” Harry asked, head tilted in thought.

“No, no, that is another question and it is my turn.”

“But I answered two of _yours_ in a row!”

“No one made you. But don’t worry, I’ll make it easy for you. Have you learned to dance since that awful display at the Yule Ball?”

“What kind of...fine, play it that way. Yes, I learned better for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. However, I have had little opportunity since.”

“I don’t understand why. You’ve been invited to plenty of parties. But it is your turn, so ask away.”

“I feel like I’m being set up,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “Fine, what is your type, Draco?”

“Not Pansy, and not just because I’ve known her since diapers. Nor someone like our waitress. While I think she could have the pick of that rambunctious litter at the bar, she is not for me. I prefer the male variety.”

“Wow!”

“Problem?’

“No, that’s just the oddest way to say you’re gay. I just came out and told Hermione and Ron.”

“And look! I didn’t even have to ask.” Draco lifted his ale mug in a mock salute and finished the rest off. 

Harry laughed. “Damn, I knew your kind were slippery, but…”

“Slytherins, or-”

“Slytherins, Draco. No need to think about the snake in your trousers.”

“Did you just refer to my dick as a snake?” Draco questioned, giving Harry a wink. “You want to talk to it?” 

“Oh Merlin, Malfoy, I don’t think I have had enough to drink to handle you flirting with me.”

“Potter, you couldn’t handle me pissed drunk _or_ stone sober. But you might be the closest.” Draco leaned back in his chair, giving Harry a overdone smug look. “I’m glad to know I wasn’t wrong, though.”

“Wrong?”

“About you flying for the same team. I had my suspicions, since you are still woefully single.”

“Maybe I just hadn’t found a witch I wanted to date?”

“Maybe, but all you would have to do is make one small display that you were looking, and all the witches--young, old, single, married--would come knocking down your door. Pansy tells me you're always voted as the most eligible bachelor in Witches Weekly.”

Draco paused, giving Harry a chance to rebuttal. Harry just thinned his lips at the unwelcome statement, so Draco plowed on. “I also think this is another reason why you hardly go out into the wizarding world. Go into the public and you're swamped with admirers and people trying to catch your eye. You also don’t want to deal with the fallout of the world knowing the Harry Potter is gay.” He paused. “But, Harry, when was the last time you went to a Quidditch game? Or just out to dinner with your friends? I told you, you’re lonely. I can see that, Harry.”

“Quit thinking you know me, Draco. You don’t.”

“Really? Then why, pray tell, did you make your little ultimatum?”

Harry didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and looked at the back wall.

“Look, Harry, believe it or not, assignment aside, I want to be here. We have been at odds for too long, and really, neither of us were truly each other’s enemies.”

“So what? Friends then?”

Draco shrugged. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he’d take it. “Why not? Has it been that horrible, having me around these last three days?”

“No,” Harry admitted in a quiet tone.

“So, try to enjoy it.” Draco reached for his ale, letting Harry know it was just that easy. “It’s time to live a little Harry, and not worry about everybody else. Now, finish that up. I see a dartboard and I think I need to show you a thing or two.”

Harry chuckled, grabbing his ale. “Still trying to top me, Draco?”

“You know what, Potter? I think I’m just going to let that one lie.”

____________________________________________

The next day, Draco noticed an easiness between him and Harry. Whatever the catalyst - the talk or the horrible dart games - something had clicked between the two.

Waking late, Draco and Harry worked in the kitchen together, making brunch. Draco already knew that Harry was capable in the kitchen, so he followed his instructions like a good assistant would. Harry joked that it was the only time he had seen Draco listen to him, no questions asked.

“So, I thought that we could go out today. To do a little research for your book,” Harry commented as brunch was winding down. 

“Harry, I don’t know if this escaped you or not, but the topic is _you_ , so I don’t know how much research I have to do with the source sitting about a meter across from me.”

“Just indulged me, Draco,” Harry said. “Trust me when I say, you’ll like it. Dress for a Muggle outing.”

Draco sighed. “Muggle clothes again? If we keep this up, I might have to go shopping.”

____________________________________________

“A zoo?”

Harry had taken him to Surrey, an area he couldn’t ever remember coming to nor wanting to visit. Not that he had ever had a reason to go. 

“Yep.” Harry ended the word with a pop. “I grew up in this area, but I’ve only been here once, and that was before I turned eleven.”

Draco looked over at Harry, trying to judge the reason for this trip. Was this a place of happy memories, or -?

“Come on, they're going to feed the seals soon.” Harry walked to the ticket window, letting Draco follow. 

Draco had only been to a magical zoo in France when he was quite young. He’d never considered paying to get into a Muggle one. The idea of looking at plain animals never intrigued him as a child, and really, why look at monkeys when he could see the wyvern nursery? But the children looked happy, and Draco did have to admit the Lion Tamarins were actually cute. Draco just wished Harry wasn’t breezing by all the exhibits.

“Harry, isn’t the point of the zoo to _stop_ and _see the animals_?”

“We are. The seals, remember?”

“The seals better be outstanding with how fast you're trying to get-” Draco’s complaint was cut off when he walked right into Harry’s back. 

“Damn it, Potter! Warn a wizard, will you?” Draco griped as he rubbed his stinging nose. Harry, however, wasn’t paying attention to Draco, nor was he watching the barking seals. Draco followed his line of sight and saw that Harry was watching what looked to be a small family on the other side of the seal habitat

The man looked to be about their age and was holding a little girl with the same flaxen hair as her father. The mother, standing next to the pair, was pointing out the antics of the seals below. Curious about why this family grabbed Harry’s attention, Draco turned to ask, only to find himself alone. Harry had moved forward, picking his way through the crowd to the family.

Following, Draco chose to keep his distance and watch instead of interfere. 

“Harry!” The man yelled, waving Harry over the rest of the way. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Yeah,” Harry looked over at the child in the man’s arms. “Is this her?”

“Yep, this here is my daughter, Marigold. Mary, this is my cousin, Harry.”

Draco watched Marigold look Harry over, judging as only a young child could. “You like seals, Hair-ry?”

Harry cracked a smile for the little girl. “I think they’re funny.” Leaning closer to the girl, Harry loudly whispered, “I think they sound like dogs.”

Marigolds eyes lit up as if Harry had told her the best secret. “They do! They sound just like Aunt Mar Mar’s scary dog!” Turning to her father, Marigold asked if she could go watch the seals with her mum.

“She looks like she got all her looks from her mom, doesn’t she Dudley?” Harry asked after the child was out of earshot. 

“And thank God for that! I still don’t know what my beautiful wife sees in me.” The man, Dudley, smiled. 

“You have a point, Dudders. Should I check her for a hex or two? Maybe a love potion?”

“Can your people do that?” Dudley asked. His voice was so low, Draco could barely hear him.

“Well, yes, but I doubt anyone did it, Dudley.”

“Oh, I know. I was just thinking on your end. I don’t want to see anything bad happen, Harry, not after-”

“I know, Dudley, I know. Trust me, I’m not looking anywhere where people can do that.”

“Good, good.” Dudley patted Harry on his shoulder. “So, do you want to join us for some lunch? Mum and dad are meeting us for dinner. Dad still has an issue with going to the zoo.”

Draco saw Harry wince at that, and his Slytherin curiosity perked up. 

“No, I better not. I have someone with me, and plus I didn’t bring a-” Harry gestured to Marigold, who was clapping along with the seals.

“Harry, you don’t need to bring a gift. Heavens knows my parents will give her so much stuff I don’t know where I’ll put it all.” Both Harry and Dudley chuckled. “Anyway, you brought someone? Can I meet her?”

“Well, it’s not a her.”

“Not a her?” Dudley looked confused, his already small eyes looking like slits.

Draco figured this was a good time to show himself--not that he was really hiding--so he stepped out to the side.

“No, I am definitely a ‘him.’” Draco put on his best smile. He might not know who this Dudley character was, but he was someone who knew a lot about Harry, and a Muggle. It wasn’t hard to guess that this person grew up with Harry before Hogwarts. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

The man held out his hand for Draco to shake. “Dudley Dursley. So are you and Harry...?”

Draco saw Harry’s face pale a little from the corner of his eyes. “Me and Harry? No, no. Much to my dismay, but if you’ve got any tips-”

“That’s enough, Draco.” Harry’s warning was half-hearted without any real threat to it. “Draco here is staying with me while he writes the update for the book he is working on.”

“Well, you're both welcome to join us, if you want.”

“No, I promised to show Draco around, and we have some things to do.”

“Okay. It was good to see you, Harry. Don’t be a stranger, pop in anytime, yeah?”

____________________________________________

After meeting Harry’s cousin, Draco and Harry moved out of the crowd and strolled along the pathway, stopping at a few cages to watch the animals.

Draco waited for Harry to speak first, but once it was clear the man was deep in thought, Draco decided to break the silence. 

“Harry, we don’t have to stay.” Draco could care less about animals. He didn’t want Harry slipping back into depression like yesterday.

“No, I want to show you something.” Harry pointed to a building that was further up on the path. “Come on.”

Entering the building boasting the sign _Reptile House_ , Draco and Harry made their way to the back. Draco watched as a family passed the glass displays, tapping as they went.

“It was right there,” Harry pointed to the glass tank on the left. “That’s where I first learned I could hear snakes. I made the glass disappear too. The snake wanted to go to the Amazon.”

Draco pictured a young Harry, letting a snake lose so it could be free. 

“It wasn’t until our duel in second year, when you spelled that snake at me, that I learned few others could hear snakes. Or that I was talking like a snake. It sounds like normal English to me.”

Draco didn’t admit it to anyone, but Harry had scared him like never before that day. He’d heard stories, as a child. Whispered conversations in the shadows, about the Dark Lord slipping into Parseltongue before sending off the killing curse. 

“Can you still speak it?”

“I wish I couldn’t. People never trust a Parselmouth.”

“Yes, but without you, it would be a lost magic.” Draco’s voice lowered, so the family coming in couldn’t hear them. “We lost so much from that mad man already.”

“What good is it, Draco?”

“I guess there is something you still need to learn,” Draco commented, “but not here, and not now. I refuse to have to spend another day with you depressed. Come, let’s get some popcorn and decide which animals look like the Wizengamot members to most.” 

Harry laughed. “You mean, like Umbridge and her toad-like appearance?”

“Merlin! That woman looked like someone took Neville’s toad and put it in a pink dress!”

The popcorn was cold, and the soda wasn’t to his taste, but somewhere between laughing at a monkey grooming himself like Lockhart and Harry telling Draco about sneaking into the Slytherin dorm Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle, Draco realized he wanted to do more outings with Harry. The complete ease that fell around them was far too pleasant. His stomach fluttered when Harry laughed, making him want to protect the man from the unfairness of his past.

And why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he court Harry? Why couldn’t they have a chance to be happy?

For the life of Draco, he couldn’t think of a reason.

____________________________________________

This time, Draco was the first one up. Mostly because, around six in the morning, he just gave up trying to sleep and got up. First, he organized his notes from yesterday and then ventured out into the kitchen, intent on cooking something for breakfast.

He wasn’t a cook per se, but living alone, he’d had to learn some basics. And Draco chose to learn some of his favorites. He had never got the hang of pancakes, but for some reason, French toast was a specialty of his. 

“Morning. You’re cooking?” Harry asked, surprised as he walked into the kitchen. Draco had a large stack of Finnish French toast, next to him. 

“It’s easy. Bread, batter, cook until batter is toasted. I burn them less than pancakes.” Draco stated. “Never could get the hang of pancakes.”

“I can teach you.”

Draco’s mind flashed to a bare-chested Harry holding him. His back was flush with Harry’s chest. Hot breath puffed by his ear, as Harry’s arms bracketed Draco, showing him how to hold a spatula. 

Great... now his mind decided to get his dick in the game. Just wonderful. Thank Merlin there was a table between himself and Harry.

Harry’s voice broke into Draco’s inter rant. “If you really don’t want to, it’s okay to say so.” 

“What?”

“The look on your face.” Harry pointed to his own for emphasis. “You didn’t look happy about the suggestion.”

“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” Draco focused back to the last pieces of toast in the skillet. “I could always use some more proficiency in the kitchen. It took me weeks to learn how not to burn water, even with cooking spells.”

“I don’t use cooking spells. Learned how to cook before I knew about magic.” Harry moved to the refrigerator to pull out the juice and syrup. “We can work on it tonight.”

“Pancakes for dinner?”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. “Why not?”

“I never thought of it before.”

“Muggles do it more than you know. We’ll start with pancakes and move on to crepes. They’ll taste good with all the jam and fruit we got.”

Pulling off the last piece of toast, Draco moved the full plate to the center of the table and sat down. While he waited for Harry to grab the glasses, it dawned on Draco that he didn’t know how to proceed with courting Harry. At Hogwarts, his few relationships wanted Draco for what he stood for, or what his family could do for him. But for all of Harry’s odd Slytherin traits, he didn’t want power or money.

So how to catch the eye of a Gryffindor?

“You're doing it again, Malfoy,” Harry said, spearing a piece of French toast. “Care to share with the class?”

“No, just thinking.” Draco paused before adding, “I only have two more days after today.”

Harry took on that unfocused look again, before saying, “That’s right, you’re going to be leaving soon. I guess we have a lot more to cover then. Do you have any questions to ask?”

_Do you think you could put the past behind us? Are you even looking for someone in your life right now? Can we meet up after this book is written and see where that goes? Can I kiss you?_

But Draco went with the easier, “Fourth year?”

“Really, I would think that is the one year you don’t need help with. If I sneezed to the left, it was put in the _Daily Profit._ ”

“Yes, but you have been silent about what happened in the third task. All the public record states is that you and Cedric were port-keyed out of the maze and you witnessed Voldemort come back.”

“There is a reason for that.” Harry sighed. “The ritual he used, just one of many steps he used to cheat death, was some of the darkest magic known to man. Tom Riddle might have found a way to not die, but I wouldn’t call it living, because the process destroyed his body and his sanity.”

Draco couldn't argue. He had met the Dark Lord.

“After the ritual gave him a body, he called his followers using the dark mark on Peter’s arm. He _delighted_ in the man’s pain. Seeing people like your father or Goyle Senior... it made it all the more real, you know? It was like, I knew what side your father stood on, but then _seeing_ him there just brought a whole new level to everything. I heard the stories and knew what your father was capable of from our second year, but in the death eater mask and everything…”

Draco automatically pulled his arm to his chest. Shielding the mark had become an unconscious habit whenever the actions of his father as a Death Eater were brought up. He knew it was a defensive posture from when people had confronted him in lieu of his father. 

“Look, Harry, I sorry for what-”

“No, Draco,” Harry sharply cut him off. “You don’t need to apologize for your father. I know that you’re just another victim. That the mark on your arm was not from your own free will.”

“But that’s just it, Harry. I _had_ to accept it for the mark to work.”

“Yes, you may have kneeled and held your arm out, Draco, but you didn’t accept it for his twisted cause. You did for the safety of your family. And I cannot fault you in trying to protect your loved ones.”

“Careful, Potter. You’re making me out to be a bleeding-heart Gryffindor,” Draco snorted, lightly teasing to lift the mood.

“Merlin forbid! I would think, with how fast the sorting hat placed you, there’s no doubt you are. But seriously, Draco, I’m not really mad at your father anymore. I doubt I’ll ever see eye-to-eye with the man--or want to spend a long period of time alone with him, for that matter--but I am not out for his blood either. For whatever reason, he chose not to fight at the end. It doesn’t make up for what he did to Ginny, but at least he didn’t add more sins to his book.”

Draco understood what Harry meant. His father didn’t kill anyone, at least that day.

“We sure know how to depress breakfast. Seems to be turning into a habit. Sorry about ruining your French toast,” Harry nodded to the now-cold food.

“That’s okay. I’m good at reheating charms.” 

Draco didn’t know what else to say, so instead he let the silence lapse over them. What if the actions of his own father stood in the way of even a chance with Harry? Of course, this was all worrying over nothing, if he couldn’t find a way to talk to Harry. Sure they _talked_ , but turning a conversation about deceased family members, crazy psychopaths and a poorly acted out war, into _Harry, I’ve been thinking, we may have something. What to have dinner together?_

He didn’t know what he could do, but he knew what he needed to do.

“Hey, Harry, I’ve got to run an errand, but I’ll be back for dinner tonight. Remember, breakfast for dinner, so we can try again and not be depressing.” Draco left as soon as Harry promised to clean up the kitchen.

____________________________________________

“Pansy, get your harpy butt down here!” Draco yelled after he stepped out of the fireplace. Pansy would never be up before ten am, even on a weekday. “I swear to Merlin! Pansy, I won’t hesitate to walk into your room and I don’t care if my best friend is sharing your sheets!”

“Damn it, Draco! You could raise the dead,” Pansy snarled from the top of the stairs. Draco could tell from the sleep tousled hair and the short silk robe she was wearing that he did indeed wake her.

“Well, still not loud enough to wake Blaise, I see. Hurry up! I’m in dire need of your help. And some tea too, I think.”

“Go to the parlor and call for a House Elf. I’ll be down after I inform Blaise that _you’re_ the reason he’ll be waking up alone.”

Draco didn’t even bother to point out that she’d be back in bed the moment Draco stepped in the floo to leave. Pansy and Blaise were still in the honeymoon stage of the relationship, and often went at it like rabbits on a lust potion. 

Draco really didn’t mind, though. He was happy they finally found out for themselves what all of their friends already knew. 

Ordering tea from the House Elf that popped in next to him, Draco took a seat on one of the overly-stuffed chairs while waiting for either Pansy or the tea.

“This better be good, Draco, or by Morgana's saggy tits, I’ll make you the end of your line,” Pansy snapped, flopping on her sofa in a motion that somehow was a regal recline. She’d taken the time to tame her hair, but her robe declared she didn’t care if she was receiving a guest. 

“I have been living at Harry Potter’s these last five days.” Draco jumped right into the heart of the problem. “But-”

“Merlin, Draco! Did you two finally just go bump uglies?”

“No! Pansy, I went over to his place because he was turning back all my owl correspondence-”

“About bumping uglies?”

“No, it was about work. I was given the assignment to interview Harry about his role in the war for the updated version of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. There has been nothing sexual at all.”

“But... you want there it be.” Pansy held up her hand to forestall an interruption. “Don’t answer that. You’ll deny it, and it’s not important right now. What _is_ important is how you got from an interview to shacking up with the man.”

“Because he blackmailed me into it.” Draco combed a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends a little. “I decided to visit, you know, thinking face to face would work better than letters-”

“Sounds like it worked better than you anticipated.”

Draco gave Pansy a glare, letting her know her commentary was not welcome. Pansy raised her hands up in surrender.

“As I was saying, I was trying to convince Potter to let me interview him, and then somehow it ended with him telling me that to get the story, I had to stay over for seven days.”

“Sounds nefarious. What has he been having you do?”

“That’s just it, Pans! Nothing. We eat and talk, and yes, we have gone out-”

“Out? I thought Potter was a hermit now? Where did you go?”

“First, we went to a farmers’ market. Don’t ask. It’s something that happens near one of the Black estates and Harry supports it by selling herbs there. Apparently, he has been building the Black lands back up. And yes, a farmers’ market sounds so plebeian, but it was better than I thought it would be.”

Pansy looked thoroughly interested as she motioned for Draco to continue. 

“Next was a pub to eat, but that was my idea. We did play darts. Then we went to a zoo, but I think that was more for his cousin's daughter’s birthday, even though he didn’t stay for it. We did wander around the zoo for a while, though... Okay, what is that smile for?”

“Harry Potter has been taking you out on dates, and the great Draco Malfoy doesn’t even know he’s being courted!” Pansy ended with a cackling laugh, before sitting up. “What else have you done?”

“Just talk and eat really. Pansy, I think you might be the first person to really have her brains screwed out.”

“Shut up, Draco,” Pansy sniffed, before holding up her hand, index finger extended. “First, he is showing you he can provide for you by cooking and also that he,” second finger, “is a man that can handle his accounts. He is building back a wizarding legacy and one that is important to your family, not his -”

“But, Black was his _Godfather._ ”

“Yes, one that turned his back on the Blacks, so it wouldn’t have been important to him. Then,” third finger, “he introduces you to his family. And from what we both know about Potter, he was never close it his family to begin with. We all heard rumors of their hatred of magic.”

“So why introduce me to him? Why even be on speaking terms with them?”

“Merlin, Draco! Have you lost all Slytherin teaching?” Pansy tossed both hands up before pointing at Draco. “Because of you, you nitwit. Harry in his silent and bumbling ways is showing you that it is okay to forgive family, to try to mend fences.”

_His father_

Lucius and him were as far away from each other as two family members could get and still be called a family. Many times, Draco had told his close friends that if it wasn’t for his mother, he’d doubt that he and his father would talk at all.

Could Pansy be right? Was Harry’s ultimatum a way to keep Draco near? Was Harry Potter courting Draco, while the whole time Draco was trying to figure out how to talk to Harry about the possibility of a courtship? Merlin, that sounded so like Potter, to start a courtship and bypass important steps, like asking first.

And if he thought about it that way, Pansy’s theory seemed quite reasonable.

_Harry Potter was courting Draco Malfoy!_

“So now I just have to find how to address this to Harry,” Draco mused out loud.

“I think, in this, your best bet is to act like a Gryffindor and just go tell him. You can’t be any worse at being a Lion than he is being a Snake.”

“So, you’re saying I just go up to Potter and tell him how I feel?”

Pansy rolled her eyes with a small shake of her head. “I swear, how did you even...look, have a _little_ more tact than that. But I think we can come up with a plan so it will be easy to lead into telling him. You can’t scare him away. Got any plans for tonight?”

Draco sighed, but smiled. “He’s going to teach me to cook pancakes.”

“How very domestic of you,” Pansy cooed. “Okay we can work with it.” Pansy reached for her tea cup, her face betraying schemes entering her mind. “This is what I want you to do-”

____________________________________________

Draco returned to Harry’s home after Pansy helped him hatch a plan that would work on “a helpless Gryffindor.” But first, he stopped by his own flat for “the perfect outfit.” After hearing how Draco could have lost a nut from Harry in his Muggle jeans, Pansy reminded him that he owned some stunning wizarding clothes, and turnabout was fair play.

Draco let Harry know he was back and would be in his room writing until dinner. He took the time to catch up on his notes from the morning discussion, shower, and then dress.

He’d picked out an outfit that Pansy had brought back from one of her many trips. It was a simple, light jumper in steel blue, that hugged his body in all the right places. The trousers were a little tighter than his normal ones, but gave him the same look as Harry’s drool worthy jeans had displayed the other day. He opted for hair brushed back, not gelled, and admired the look in the mirror: simple to fit the situation, but still eye catching.

Going back into the kitchen, Draco found Harry already there, setting up the workspace. He saw Harry chose to wear a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. Not that Harry didn’t look good, but it was not something Draco would think to wear when trying to pursue someone. 

He paused a bit, hoping that Pansy didn’t read Harry’s actions wrong. If she did, he could be stepping into a situation that might not give him another shot at Harry.

“Are you going to stand there all night, watching me?” Harry asked, looking over at Draco. Draco noticed the time Harry took to look Draco over, taking longer time on his legs. That was a good sign.

“Nice outfit, much better than your normal wizarding clothes. But I don’t know if they're right for this.” Draco looked down, trying to find fault in his choice. “It’s just we’re going to be using a lot of white powdery baking products, and I think you’re going to get a little messy,” Harry pointed out.

_Oh_

“But they’re just clothes, and a little homemaking magic can save you from looking like you’ve been rolling in a flour bin,” Harry added, raising his wand in a questioning gesture. 

_Asking for trust, another courting step._ Draco could hear Pansy’s voice telling him facts, before he nodded his consent. The spell left a lightweight feeling on his body, like he was wearing a thin sheet from neck to toe.

“Molly taught it to me. She called it an apron spell. It helps keep you dust free.” Harry put his wand away and waved Draco to stand next to him. “Now, I really don’t know about wizards, but Muggles have a quick mix you can buy. I find I like them from scratch. Plus, you can adapt for add-ons and it tastes better.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Draco asked.

“Roll up your sleeves and we’ll get started on the measuring,” Harry said, pulling what looked like flour over to them. 

The next half hour, Draco worked alongside Harry, both learning how to make pancakes and judging Harry’s reaction to any lingering touches and borderline flirtatious comments. 

“Now, Draco, let me help.” Harry reached over and put his hand over the one Draco was using to hold the spatula. Draco felt Harry’s breath on his neck when he told Draco how to watch for the right time to flip the cakes. Or, at least, that was what Draco thought he was being told, because all he could think about was that daydream he had in the kitchen earlier, causing his hand to jerk out of Harry’s grip and knock into the hot pan on the stove. 

Draco pulled his hand back but the damage was done, his hand was already a hot, angry red. “Fuck! That hurts!”

“Draco, let me see!” Harry slowly pulled Draco’s arm toward him. “Merlin, Draco! You're lucky... you could have burned this much worst.”

“Still hurts, Potter!” Draco gritted through his teeth, trying not to yell from the way the skin was stretched over the burn mark. 

“I know, but hold on. I have some burn paste I keep in the kitchen. I’ll have you know, I sometimes _still_ burn myself even though I’ve been cooking for years.” Harry pulled a jar from the cabinet.

“Noted. I guess, then, I should keep some of that on hand,” Draco said, nodding to the jar.

“I would, but then again, I always seem to find myself in a spot of trouble from time to time.” Harry held out his hand for Draco to place his in the open palm.

“I seem to remember a Gryffindor with more than his fair share of time in the infirmary- ouch!”

“Sorry, Draco. Hold still! I’ll get this wrapped up in no time.” Harry spread the cream along the burn in liberal amounts. Because of the way Harry held his arm, Draco found himself close enough to Harry that their legs brushed together. Draco watched the other man, who was intently watching his own movements. His eyes were downcast, causing his eyelashes to fan out. 

Draco really wanted to see want those eyelashes flutter as they slowly open for him every morning. 

“There you go. It’ll be good as new in the morning.” Harry’s fingers were slightly curled over Draco’s own fingers, so if he had wanted to, Draco could have pulled his hand way.

But Draco didn’t want to. 

And Pansy must have been right. Draco was never going to get anywhere with Harry, unless he stopped looking for the right time and just told Harry how he felt. 

Like right now.

Draco looked up from his hand to see Harry staring at him, head tilted as if he were questioning something. Or waiting on Draco.

And maybe he was. Maybe he had been waiting for Draco to acknowledge him back.

“Harry, I-”

Draco’s confession was interrupted by the light pressure of Harry’s lips on his own. Draco’s lips parted, allowing Harry to deepen the kiss.

Shock fading away, Draco felt his body melt into Harry’s, matching his kiss. The fingers of Draco’s free hand traveled up Harry’s neck, combing into Harry dark locks. 

Then, as fast as the kiss started, it was over. Harry pulled away, his face twisted into something that look both disgusted and apologetic 

“I’m so sorry, Draco!” Harry blurted out, before turning and rushing out of the kitchen.

“Harry!” Draco yelled, but the sound of the floo stopped Draco from speaking further. 

_What in the bloody hell just happened?!_

____________________________________________

Draco waited up for Harry until the early morning hours. When he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he crashed one his bed, waking past noon to a still-empty house.

Knowing Harry, he went to either a Weasley home or one of the Black properties. Draco couldn’t follow because he didn’t know where all the locations were. Instead, he decided to work on his project. 

After dressing, Draco entered the study to find a letter in the center of the desk penned to him.

Opening the envelope, Draco found the contents to be several pages of a familiar, messy scrawl.

_Draco,_

_I am sorry for leaving last night, but I had to leave before you had a chance to tell me off. I_ know _that last night should have never happened and I -_

Draco scanned over the pages before tossing them onto the desk. That stupid, _stupid_ ass! He sent a letter, complete with Harry’s story, for Draco to use for his book, but never let Draco talk to him. No! He just went and made the decision for him. 

Pig-headed Gryffindor! Draco wanted to slap him silly before kissing any stupid notions out of his head.

_I should have never made you stay. Should have never taken advantage-_

Just what did that man think? That Draco would just kiss him back because a pair of lips were attached to his? 

_Take the following information and write your book. I owe it to you-_

Draco wanted to drag him out of hiding and toss the pages in his face! He could care less about the book. Not when he _finally_ had Harry in his hands last night!

_I hope one day you can forgive me-_

No. Harry didn’t get to play the tragic hero that made a mistake while Draco was cast as the blushing Victorian virgin. 

_You’re free to go-_

And wasn’t that the kicker! Draco knew if he stayed, Harry would continue to hide. So he couldn’t tell Harry how wrong he was nor how Draco felt about him. 

Merlin’s balls! Fine! Draco would retreat, give Harry some space, finish the damn book project, and then--oh, he’d be back. This was not over.

____________________________________________

Draco had stuck to his plan. He had packed his bags and went straight to Pansy and Blaise’s, where they let him bitch about everything Harry Potter related while nursing a bottle of firewhiskey. They were even kind enough to let him pass out in their guest room.

After that, he spent time working on Harry’s story, editing and cutting down his lengthy journey into the small space that was allocated for the second fall of the Dark Lord. He handed the work in before the end of business day, to the gratitude of his incompetent boss. 

And now, Draco just needed to wait.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Draco?” Pansy asked, watching Draco put the finishing touches on his outfit.

“It’s perfect, Pansy. We know that Potter visits weekly, like clockwork, and he will never do anything in a mostly Muggle crowd.” Draco finished combing his hair, taking one last look in the mirror before turning to face Pansy. “And you know that I have to do this right? I can’t let it be, knowing he has feelings that match my own.”

“Yes, Draco. I hope you two learn to talk, because I don’t want to deal with any more of your pining.”

“You and me both, Pans.”

____________________________________________

The market was busy for an early fall day, with people trying to get as much summer fruit as they could, but Draco had a mission to find Harry.

Making his way through the crowd, Draco headed for the Black Estate herb booth where he knew Harry would be at this time. Having staked out the booth for four weeks was paying off now. 

Sure enough, Harry was at the booth talking to both Neville and Hannah Longbottom. Great! More people around to keep Harry from turning tail. Deciding the direct approach was the way to go, Draco stepped up next to Harry, calling his name in greeting. 

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Harry asked, looking a bit flummoxed and nervous. 

He was still using his first name. Draco could use that.

“Harry, I am here because we need to talk.”

“I don’t see what about. I left a letter for you-”

“Yes, a _letter_. And I can’t bloody--what was it you said?-- _tell you off,_ when you dismiss me with a letter.”

Harry had the good sense to wince. “I didn’t mean to make it-”

“No! No, you are going to stand there and listen or I’ll raise my voice and cause a scene. I only have one thing I want to tell you, Potter.” 

Draco stopped and turned to the Longbottoms, who stood with their mouths gaping. “Will you two excuse us for a second? No, wait,” Draco held his hand up to stop them from moving. “I think I would like witnesses for this.”

Draco turned back to Harry. “All I want to tell you Potter... Harry... was before you kissed me and ran away, I was going to tell you that I have feelings for you. First, it started as lust, I know, but then I started thinking about you as a person. And then was given that bloody assignment and I felt something deeper, but I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t know how. It never seemed the right time. And then, you _kissed me_ and left. With a letter of dismissal.”

Done, Draco closed his mouth and watched Harry, who was watching him right back. And they probably could have gone on like that forever, but Neville Longbottom spoke up.

“Harry, mate, I think you need to say something.” That snapped them out of the moment.

“Draco? You mean-”

“I know you have the ability to put a sentence together. You pulled together pages of sentences when you were stopping this from happening, not waiting to see if I wanted it to happen.”

“Oh Merlin! Draco, you mean that you and I could -”

“Okay, clearly this is going to take longer than I would like, and I’ve waited long enough. So, Harry Potter, will you do me the honor of allowing me to take you to lunch?”

“Like a date?” asked Harry.

“If you want to call it that,” countered Draco.

“Oh Merlin!” Hannah huffed. “Harry, take Draco around and buy something to eat. Make it a picnic and head to the estate and show him around! Eat in the gardens. It will be so romantic.” Transfiguring a bag into a picnic basket underneath the table, Hannah handed it to Harry. “There you go! Have fun and remember - _talk_.”

“Um, Draco, would you like to picnic with me?” Harry asked, holding the basket awkwardly.

“I would love to, Harry,” Draco said, nodding thanks to the Longbottoms before they left the booth. 

Before they were too far, Draco overheard Hannah say, “I swear, if it wasn’t for us Hufflepuffs, no one would ever see reason.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/59314.html).


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